“Leaves are also an interesting peril.” Samuel maintained a safe distance from the back of the lead cruiser, and Bailey matched his pace. At each light or halting of traffic, she pranced in place.
I considered myself fortunate she restrained from bucking, as I doubted I’d keep my seat if she decided to bounce around in earnest.
After the first few minutes, Alec rolled his shoulders and asked, “Is it true being a cop is pretty stressful?”
“Yes,” we answered, and I giggled at Bailey’s exasperated tone.
“It’s worth it, though,” I added, hoping we wouldn’t scare him off. “It’s hard work, and it’s sometimes thankless work, but it’s important, and we make a difference every day. To me, that’s worth the stress. We never know when a call might sour. We also never know when a call can lead to somebody’s death. It’s a part of the job, and I find it doesn’t get that much easier despite exposure. We don’t want anyone to die while we’re on duty.”
“You’d be a pretty bad cop if you did.”
I shook my head. “I mean, there are times I’ve considered shoving my gun up an abuser’s ass and firing, but I’m supposed to be one of the good guys, which means letting the abusers see their day in court.”
Samuel whinnied a laugh. “We all have days like that. The next time a bad case blows through the precinct, you’ll get to hear Bailey’s thoughts on that. It’s educational—and hilarious.”
“Why laugh at my suffering?” the cindercorn complained. “Stomp and squish like grape, solve problem.”
“Alas, we can’t stomp and squish the worst of the lot like grapes, no matter how tempting it might be.”
Alec stared at me with wide eyes. “Maybe you’re the one who needs to be recused, Josefina. Are you sure you’re going to be okay if left alone with them?”
“I should be okay.” I chuckled at his expression and shrugged. “You know that thing about cops and coffee and donuts?”
“I may have heard of such a thing.”
“I prefer cookies over donuts, but she really makes the best coffee I’ve ever tasted. It’s worth the risk.”
“Yes. My coffee is the best coffee. You, too, get best coffee if you join force. Queeny, make it so!”
“He does get a say in whether or not he wants to be a cop, Bailey,” Samuel replied.
“But why? I make best coffee, will give him best coffee, but he must live in our station on our floor.”
Samuel heaved a sigh, reached over, and nipped his wife’s neck. “We do not make cops live at work, Bailey.”
“Oh. Right. He work on our floor, we send home at appropriate intervals. Pay therapy bills for putting up with me.”
“You’re so paying for that comment when we get home,” Mr. Samuel Quinn warned, flicking an ear back.
Bailey lost hold of her little restraint and bucked like a bronco with a burr under her saddle. Somehow, I stuck onto her back, but after her third jump, I balled my hand into a fist and bonked her between her ears. “Bad cindercorn. Down!” I ordered.
It took three more smacks between her ears to get her to put her hooves on the asphalt where they belonged, and I somehow stayed on her back rather than crashing onto the ground.
Alec stared at me with wide eyes and his mouth open. Samuel’s ears pricked forward.
I realized I’d just assaulted my boss repeatedly, and I bowed my head and sighed, wondering if the end of my career would happen within seconds, minutes, or hours.
Bailey swung her head at her husband, and the whites of her eyes showed. After a moment, she blurted, “Did you see?”
Samuel bobbed his head and whinnied. “I saw.”
“I find best detective. I fight you to keep her.” To make it clear she meant business, Bailey snapped her teeth at her husband, although she didn’t land a bite.
“If you’re not careful, she’ll fight you, and you’ll lose,” Samuel replied. “Now, what have we learned here?”
“Buck at own risk.”
“Detective McMarin, should she buck, do what you just did again but harder. She’s got rocks in that head of hers, so she’ll be fine.”
